Mistborn: Secret History (Mistborn, #3.5)

“Oh, my friend,” Kelsier whispered. “What has he done to you?”

The group obeyed Spook’s orders, rushing off. Spook lagged behind them, walking down the street. Kelsier could see the threads of the future, in the Spiritual Realm. Coated in darkness, a city destroyed. Possibilities ending.

But a few lines of light remained. Yes, it was still possible. First this boy had to save his city.

“Spook,” Kelsier said, forming himself a body of power. Nobody could see him, but that didn’t matter. He fell into step beside Spook, who practically stumbled along. One foot after the other, barely moving.

“Keep moving,” Kelsier encouraged. He could feel this man’s pain, his anguish and confusion. His faith battered. And somehow, through Connection, Kelsier could talk to him as he’d not been able to do to others.

Kelsier shared in Spook’s exhaustion with each trembling, agonized step. He whispered the words over and over. Keep moving. It became a mantra. Spook’s young woman arrived, helping him. Kelsier walked on his other side. Keep moving.

Blessedly, he did. Somehow the exhausted young man stumbled all the way to a burning building. He stopped outside, where Sazed had been forced to shy away. Kelsier read their attitudes in the slump of their shoulders, the fear in their eyes, reflecting flames. He heard their thoughts, pulsing from them, quiet and afraid.

This city was doomed, and they knew it.

Spook let the others pull him back from the fires. Emotions, memories, ideas rose from the boy.

Kelsier didn’t care about me, Spook thought. He didn’t think of me. He remembered the others, but not me. Gave them jobs to do. I didn’t matter to him. . . .

“I named you, Spook,” Kelsier whispered. “You were my friend. Isn’t that enough?”

Spook stopped in place, pulling against the grip of the others.

“I’m sorry,” Kelsier said, weeping, “for what you must do. Survivor.”

Spook pulled from the grip of the others. And as Ruin raged above, sputtering and screaming—finally bringing in his attention to begin forcing Kelsier back—this young man entered the flames.

And saved the city.





6





Kelsier sat on a strange, verdant field. Green grass everywhere. So odd. So beautiful.

Spook walked over and settled down next to him. The boy removed the cloth from his eyes and shook his head, then ran his fingers through his hair. “What is this?”

“Half dream,” Kelsier said, plucking a piece of grass and chewing on it.

“Half dream?” Spook asked.

“You’re almost dead, kid,” Kelsier said. “Smashed your spirit up pretty good. Lots of cracks.” He smiled. “That let me in.”

There was more to it. This young man was special. At the very least, their relationship was special. Spook believed in him as no other had.

Kelsier thought on this as he plucked another piece of grass and chewed on it.

“What are you doing?” Spook asked.

“It looks so strange,” Kelsier said. “Like Mare always said it would.”

“So you’re eating it?”

“Chewing it, mostly,” Kelsier said, then spat it to the side. “Just curious.”

Spook puffed in and out. “Doesn’t matter. None of this matters. You’re not real.”

“Well, that’s partially right,” Kelsier said. “I’m not completely real. Haven’t been since I died. But then I’m also a god now . . . I think. It’s complicated.”

Spook looked at him, frowning.

“I needed someone I could chat with,” Kelsier said. “I needed you. Someone who was broken, but who had resisted him.”

“The other you.”

Kelsier nodded.

“You always were so harsh, Kelsier,” Spook said, staring out over the rolling green fields. “I could see that deep down, you really hated the nobility. I thought that hatred was why you were so strong.”

“Strong like scar tissue,” Kelsier whispered. “Functional, but stiff. It’s a strength I’d rather you never need.”

Spook nodded, and seemed to understand.

“I’m proud of you, kid,” Kelsier said, giving him a fond punch to the arm.

“I almost ruined everything,” he said, eyes downcast.

“Spook, if you knew how many times I’ve almost destroyed a city, you’d be embarrassed to talk like that. Hell, you barely even broke that place. They’ve put out the fires, rescued most of the population. You’re a hero.”

Spook looked up, smiling.

“Here’s the thing, kid,” Kelsier said. “Vin doesn’t know.”

“Know what?”

“The spikes, Spook. I can’t get the message to her. She needs to know. And Spook, she . . . she has a spike in her too.”

“Lord Ruler . . .” Spook whispered. “Vin?”

Kelsier nodded. “Listen to me. You’re going to wake soon. I need you to remember this part, even if you forget everything else about the dream. When the end comes, get people underground. Send a message to Vin. Scratch the message in metal, for anything not set in metal cannot be trusted.